Snow, Ice and the Thirteen Dwarves
by badcrossoverqueen
Summary: In this work, I add a nervous, power-incontinent snow queen to the already hectic political atmosphere of TA 2941 Middle Earth. Because Gandalf doesn't have enough on his plate as is. Hey, I can't butcher The Hobbit any more than Peter Jackson has.
1. The Meeting In Bree

Bree, like many other small human towns, was gritty, dark and somewhat dismal. The whole outside area was a blur of browns and flares of orange- possibly a somewhat hearty, pleasant sight, if not for the factors that negated its positive aspects. Disheveled individuals, unappealing smells, and dismal weather were not kind to the senses.

The Prancing Pony was, at least, a little more tolerable than the muddy scenery outside. It was crowded, granted, but one needed that if they did not want to stick out. Raucous laughter could mask the most secretive of conversations, and thick throes of drunken braggarts could hide royalty and cutthroats alike.

When Thorin Oakenshield looked up from his meal and spied two unsavoury individuals eyeing him, it had appeared as if the climate of the building was not working his favour. Fortunately for him, an elderly man clad in grey sat before him before the tension could erupt.

"Mind if we join you?" The wizard asked, as he reached out to drag a chair from the neighbouring table to his left. Another person was with the wizard, clad in a dark blue cloak and dress that covered all but her face and hair. As she sat, the dwarf-king saw the too-pale, slight face of a young woman. She shyly nodded to the wizard and took the chair that he offered. As a waitress passed, the wizard made his order. "We'll have the same, with soup."

"Now, I should introduce myself," The elderly man said politely and cheerfully, as if he hadn't just stopped a potential assassination attempt. "I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

"I know who you are," The dwarf replied, and cast a glance to the visibly uncomfortable young woman. Her posture and manner stuck out in the bawdy crowd, and she was wringing her blue-gloved hands together. Whoever she was, she was not used to their current environment.

"Ah, forgive me. This is Elsa, who hails from one of the small ice-harvesting kingdoms of men near Forochel. She is a colleague of mine."

"Good evening," The nervous lady said. She smiled slightly in greeting but was obviously not in any way at ease in the situation. Still, she seemed harmless enough. Thorin dismissed the thought of her as a threat and gave her a nod.

"Well now, this is a fine chance," Gandalf said happily. "What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"

The ensuing conversation was whispered in hushed, urgent tones, as the two spoke of armies, mountains and war. Elsa sat silently as she took in the information. She had jumped when the serving-girl had arrived with their order, and cast furtive glances side to side, nervously eyeing the grubby, unsavoury individuals staring at them, until at one point, they left, seemingly set off by the mention of the 'King's Jewel'.

"What if I were to help you reclaim it?" Gandalf said conspiratorially.

"How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried under the feet of a fire breathing dragon," The Dwarf King said, though visibly intrigued.

"Yes it does," The wizard agreed. "We will need two people with very distinct skills at our sides, one of which we already have in this very building."

Thorin's gaze narrowed. "I'm listening."

"The one we have not recruited as of yet," Gandalf continued. "Is a burglar. I have, however, a lead, which means that I may have to make a quick trip to Hobbiton, in The Shire. The lodgings of our potential burglar would be a good meeting point for any company you assemble for this quest. It is a peaceful place, and less favourable individuals would not expect us to gather at such a location."

"And the other?"

"Well," Gandalf said, smiling. "The dragon we'll face is a beast of flames. If something goes wrong while we attempt to take the Arkenstone, well, that would cause much difficulty, even with a wizard by your side. A little more assistance would not go awry."

The wizard turned to Elsa. "My lady?"

She took a breath, nodded uncertainly, and then slipped off the glove she wore. Her hand was as white as her face, and delicate. It was the hand of a noblewoman, one that obviously had never encountered manual labour. Gandalf pushed the bowl of soup to the centre of the table and gestured to it. Thorin looked at the wizard as if he had gone mad.

"To help combat the fire-drake, we will have a person with a unique talent," Gandalf continued, ignoring Thorin's stare. He gave Elsa a meaningful look. The woman hesitantly placed her fingers on the rim of the bowl, so that only her pale index and pointing finger touched the surface of the liquid.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but his sceptical expression vanished when the soup before him made an odd crinkling sound. Flakes of ice grew and encased it until every drop was frozen solid. Crusts of frost clung to the outside of the bowl. His eyes widened, and he looked up at Gandalf's smiling face. With her demonstration finished, Elsa withdrew her hand from the bowl immediately, and quickly slipped on her glove.

Gandalf tapped the frozen soup with one finger, eliciting a solid click when his nail hit ice. "We will have a very gifted ice sorceress."

* * *

_Here's the obligatory useless disclaimer where I say I own nothing._

_This is a reupload of an old ao3 fanfic that I published in 2014 under the same name. I will be updating here from now on. More chapters will be uploaded as I edit them._

_Some important details that I will add:_

_–This is a fusion fic. Arendelle is a small human kingdom that exists in Forochel. _

_–Elsa had her coronation at age 18, not 21. Anna is 16 in this. Kristoff is 17, Hans is 18. The age decrease is because I originally wrote Elsa acting much younger, and I think perhaps the kingdom would view an 18-year-old as 'of age'. I adjusted the rest of the Frozen cast because ew, age gaps. Not my thing._

_–Shipping won't be a thing, either. As Elsa is young by our world's standards, there will be no shipping her with the much older main cast. The focus is on her growth and the friendships that grow on the road. (There may be a small ElsaxOC anecdote attached to the end if I decide to go with the original ending I wrote as a kid.)_

_–There will be more world building appearing in the story, but less in your face. Originally there were 2-3 whole chapters of boring exposition explaining how Arendelle works and it just doesn't fit. I'll add it later or put it in a separate prologue._


	2. An Uncomfortable Party

The doorbell rang again, and a very disgruntled hobbit marched towards the source of the noise. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no."

"No more!" Bilbo snapped, yanking on the door handle "I was not expecting anyone, and I am ill-prepared to host any more-"

The hobbit paused. "-Dwarves…" he said, trailing off.

He had been greeted with the sight of dark brown material, and two gloved hands wringing together nervously. Bilbo blinked, and his eyes looked up into the pale face of a young woman with a strained smile on her face.

"Good evening," She said, curtseying. "Elsa of Forochel, at your service. Forgive me if I'm late, Master, er..."

"B-Baggins. Bilbo Baggins," He said, certainly not expecting a human lady, but he remembered himself and nodded his head in greeting. True to her introduction, her manner of dress was similar to the sort of Big Folk that sold ice every now and then from the north.

They stood in silence for a moment as the befuddled hobbit struggled for words, and cold breeze seemed to blow through the air. Bilbo shivered at the sudden chill, before drawing his robe around himself. Oh dear, he was in his nightclothes, in front of a young lass, no less!

"Er, may I come in?" Elsa asked.

Bilbo nodded a little, puzzled as to why there were so many odd characters arriving at his home. Still, he was a gentlehobbit, and would not leave a lady out in the sudden cold - mysterious unexplained appearance or not.

"Um, yes… Yes, I suppose so," He said, opening the door.

Elsa ducked her head as she entered, and slouched awkwardly under the low ceiling. She wasn't happy with walking in alone, but Gandalf had cheerfully encouraged her to go on ahead. He had business rounding up the dwarves that were rowdily catching up before they'd set off.

Meanwhile, Bilbo had paused for a moment to ask what exactly was going on, but forgot his query at the sound of a crash from pantry. He excused himself and rushed towards the source of the noise to try and reason with the home invaders. Elsa, being left alone in the hall, followed the noise to a small dining room, where two dwarves were arranging furniture.

"Ah, you must be the sorceress," Said the one with the white beard, with a pleasant smile.

"Balin," He said, before gesturing to the other in the room, who was shifting the dining table slightly. "And Dwalin, at your service."

The other more ferocious looking individual looked up, and they both bowed in unison.

"Elsa of Forochel, at yours, good sirs," The pale woman answered, and curtseyed in turn.

"Ah, and there's Fíli and Kíli, with more seating," Balin said, looking over at the other doorway.

Indeed, two more individuals stood, holding stacked chairs that tilted precariously to and fro. Bilbo trailed them from behind as he protested in indignation.

Elsa was finding it hard to put on her serene, queenly act when she couldn't even stand up straight. Snobbish dignitaries and critical nobles? She could deal with those, as they were bound by the same laws of propriety as she was. However, this was different – she had no idea how commoners acted, and no idea what was polite by dwarven standards. Subtly, she succumbed to her habit of wringing her hands.

"Yeh wouldn't happen to have a tablecloth by any chance, would yeh?" Asked Dwalin, as he gathered the hobbit's cutlery off the table and deposited it on a nearby shelf.

"What? No, they're going to be washed tomorrow," Bilbo said. "All I've got is a few table runners in my linen-cupboard, but I don't see why you'd ask-"

There was yet another ring at the door, and the hobbit stomped off. Elsa heard him angrily muttering under his breath as he passed her.

"Oh, Miss Elsa, would you be a dear and fetch one of those table runners, please?" Balin said, in the middle of arranging chairs.

"Of course," Elsa nodded, grateful for an excuse to exit the room. However, when she had finally returned with a baby blue cloth in hand, she found the entire pantry and living room swarming with dwarves. At least Gandalf's familiar face, was finally among (er, above) them, but he was preoccupied with his own amusement at the scene unfolding.

Elsa resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long and awkward dinner.

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss Sorceress, but would you be interested in a nice cup of chamomile tea?"

Elsa looked down at the elaborately bearded dwarf offering her a small mug. "Oh, thank you very much. How thoughtful," She said, and accepted the small teacup with a polite nod.

"No trouble, miss." The dwarf gave her a cheerful grin, and hobbled off to the dining room in search of Gandalf. His absence revealed a very confused Bilbo that was standing behind him. Elsa didn't even notice he was there.

"E-excuse me, but did… did he just say sorceress?" The hobbit asked, a sceptical frown on his face.

Elsa nodded reluctantly, but Bilbo's gaze had left her when he spied an occurrence that he obviously didn't like happening in the hallway. "No no no, that's a very important family heirloom, put that down!"

With that, Elsa was once again left to her own thoughts and, after a while, one thought came most often to mind:

They were _everywhere_. So many dwarves bustling here and there, carrying food towards the dining room like ants raiding an unfortunate picnicker's lunch. Elsa had assumed that their host knew that they were arriving, but it became apparent that he did not. She had started to feel very sorry for poor Master Baggins, having to deal with his home being overrun, but she was in her own pickle at that moment.

Dwarves pushed past her. The proximity made her feel so uncomfortable that she had to stand in the corner to avoid any more physical contact. There was little risk of her powers getting out of hand, thanks to the elves of Rivendell sewing suppression enchantments in her clothing and gloves, but it was still very disconcerting.

Elsa was quite thankful for the miraculous assistance the elves had given her, and she regretted leaving them without so much as a goodbye. The tea in her hand remained warm, despite the crust of ice forming on palms of her hands under the cloth. Warm drinks were just so _nice_. She closed her eyes and breathed in the calming aroma of the tea.

After a small period of recuperation with her beverage, she left her corner in the hallway and approached the table when she saw Gandalf do the same. She immediately sat next to him on his left, trying to avoid the chaos that was the rest of the room.

As dinner started (not ceremoniously or officially; the dwarves seemed to just start scoffing down food in unison by some unspoken signal), she glanced at the dwarf sitting immediately to her right – a grey-haired fellow with an ear trumpet. He was hard of hearing, and very engrossed in loud conversation with the rest of his friends and family. Occasionally, he offered her platters if they were passed around, but a polite smile and a nod or shake of the head was the extent of her communication towards him.

Among the blizzard of activity at the table, Elsa stuck out as she sat still and prim in the middle of a terrible display of table manners. The room was a whirl of airborne food, raucous laughter and belching contests, and the fact that she was only sitting next to one dwarf did nothing to protect her.

Elsa had to guard any food she could keep from unknown peckish, wandering hands. Occasionally, thrown food would hit her, and she'd have to brush potato from her sleeves or wipe tomato juice from her forehead. The stench of ale and cooked meat was in the air so thick that it took all of Elsa's willpower not to bolt from the room.

Conceal, don't feel.

The last thing she wanted was a frozen table or worse. Elsa sighed and took another sip of chamomile in her nervousness. Her heart seized when the drink froze over immediately as it touched her lips. She politely finished her roast chicken and excused herself. Maybe she could recuperate in another room.

* * *

Elsa had hurriedly retreated to the nearest empty room, trying not to appear too conspicuous. Bilbo, who was in the middle surveying the damages in his pantry, glanced at her as her shadow moved past the doorway. He frowned, somewhat curious – was she lost? He looked back and forth from the woman to his depleted food stocks, and then crept quietly after her.

Finally, Elsa found herself in the smallest kitchen she had ever seen, and thought she was alone. She took one of her gloves, turned it inside out and shook the frost it into a nearby dustbin. The ice had accumulated over time, and while the elven prevented any from escaping, it was rather annoying to walk around with swollen gloved hands. Better to empty them out every now and then to avoid excess anxiety. Perhaps then, she could re-join the meal.

She didn't want to give the impression that she was having so much difficulty controlling her curse. Once his initial surprise at her abilities, the grave and intimidating Thorin Oakenshield was unlike anyone she had dealt with before. Elsa was used to being a leader – the one in charge, and she wasn't used to answering to authority figures. Thorin expected nothing but the best of her. Unfortunately, with her best came her worst.

Calm yourself; control yourself…

"Excuse me, miss, are you alright?"

At the sudden proximity of the voice behind her, Elsa startled. Ice jumped from her uncovered hand to a nearby table. The vase sitting on it was quickly covered, and it shattered.

Bilbo's eyes widened at the sudden display of magic, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if it had actually happened.

"Nonononono!" The ice sorceress' heart filled with fear as she frantically stuffed her glove back on. "I'm so, so sorry, I couldn't- I'll have it replaced I-I…"

The hobbit, who had cringed back, relaxed a fraction when he noticed that Elsa seemed more afraid than he did.

"No no, it's alright," He answered automatically, baffled by her apology and the fact that a sorceress just broke his great-aunt's vase with some sort of magic.

"I'll pay for the damages," The young lady continued, looking around for a dustpan or a broom or something she could use to clear up her mistake.

"It's not expensive, really, I can get a replacement easily," Bilbo reassured her, even though that wasn't quite true. How could he scold her for rudeness, after countless dwarves had just eaten him out of house and home? Elsa was rather polite – refreshingly so, and had been the only one to apologise to him for anything that night.

The hobbit opened a cupboard and produced a small brush and dustpan. "I mean, I did startle you - it wasn't entirely your fault."

"Thank you," Elsa said, hovering nearby, uncertain. She wanted to offer her help, but she had little knowledge of cleaning – that was what the castle servants were for.

The gentlehobbit was momentarily surprised that the glittering substance was frost – ice cold, and seemingly out of nowhere. Still, it was nothing a few scrubs with the brush wouldn't fix.

"See? There, no harm done," Bilbo said somewhat cheerfully, after clearing away the mess.

There was a 'bang!' followed by a swell of raucous laughter from the direction of the dining room. Bilbo's smile wavered.

"I'm so sorry about…" Elsa began, but had no idea how to describe the situation tactfully, so she settled for an exasperated gesture in the general direction of the party. "If I had known that you were unaware-"

Bilbo shook his head politely. "Oh no need, miss. I mean thank you, but I don't think it can be helped. I just hope you managed to get a mouthful of dinner yourself - it's downright chaotic in there."

"I ate a decent amount," Elsa assured. "I don't have a large appetite, anyway."

Elsa appreciated the idle chitchat with their soon-to-be burglar. The good company put her at ease, if only for a little while. He was a pleasant, polite fellow, as long as you acted thus towards him - it made Elsa wonder why he was going on such a quest. This little, mild-mannered hobbit was supposed to be a burglar? That didn't add up. Was this a mistake?

"Perhaps you could bring up your grievances with Mr Gandalf?" Elsa suggested. "There must has have been some sort of misunderstanding."

Bilbo agreed, and marched off to do exactly that. Elsa stood alone once more.

* * *

_I hope my editing made it prettier than it was last time._


	3. An Uncomfortable Party Part II

The dinner seemed to be finally finished. As dwarves started to enter the kitchen to begin washing up, Elsa retreated once more. She felt guilty for rushing out of the meal without so much as a word, so she returned to the dining room, intent on grabbing her used cutlery and washing up. However, on her arrival, not only did she see that her mess had already been largely cleaned up, but that the room was full of other dwarves. They seemed bored, at first, entertaining themselves by rhythmically tapping their knives and forks on the table like ill-mannered pageboys.

She couldn't exactly turn and leave after just arriving, so she was forced to nod politely at them and take a seat as though she meant to join their company. Elsa prayed that they would be still engrossed in their rowdy reunion with their fellows, but they turned their gazes curiously at the newcomer.

"So, you're a sorceress, miss?"

Elsa turned hesitantly to face whomever addressed her. He was blond and a little younger than the others – the one that was carrying chairs beforehand. 'Keeli' or something?

"Well, yes," The young woman replied uncertainly, not knowing how else to answer that question. She felt quite cornered from all the attention.

"Are you a relative of Gandalf's?" Another asked – the fellow that offered Elsa the chamomile tea.

"Oh, no, we're not family at all," Elsa corrected. At the dwarves' confused and somewhat scandalized expressions, she elaborated. "Mr Gandalf is just helping me learn how to manage my abilities."

"Ah, you are like his apprentice?" Another concluded – a dwarf with an impressive mane of red hair.

"I, er… Suppose?" She said haltingly. "He's more like a chaperone, honestly. But, then again, I do hope to learn from him-"

Suddenly, the young blond dwarf spotted an occurrence happening in the hallway, and stepped out of the room. "Here you go, Ori. Give it to me."

Whatever was happening drew the curiosity of the other dwarves, (though not enough for them to stop their game with the knives and forks). Elsa heard a worried Bilbo yelling something. Through the doorway, she saw plates and bowls being thrown about by the blond dwarf, and she gasped.

"And can you not do that?" Bilbo protested in the doorway, to the dwarves at the table. "You'll blunt them!"

Elsa silently agreed, a disapproving frown on her face.

"Ooh, did you hear that, lads?" A hatted dwarf said, face mischievous. "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

For some reason, this show of bad manners escalated into a song, lyrics already written and choreography quite well done. Elsa would have been impressed, if not for her disapproval at how they were teasing poor Master Baggins. Bad enough that they had eaten him out of house and home, but now they had the gall to taunt him by throwing his valuables around?

They young woman sat on the sidelines, feeling equal parts nervous for the safety of Bilbo's belongings, and disapproving at the dwarves' apparent glee at his protests.

Elsa didn't know how this all resulted in Bilbo's dishes forming a neat, orderly pile surrounded by laughing dwarves, but somehow, that's exactly what happened. She rushed in and was almost as relieved as Bilbo looked, but everyone became silent at the sound of three loud, and somehow intimidating knocks to the front door.

"He is here, " Gandalf said seriously.

Elsa followed as everyone rose to meet the dwarf king.

Why didn't he just use the doorbell?

* * *

The arrival of Thorin Oakenshield was… Tense, to say the least. The dwarves seemed to treat Master Baggins rather poorly in her opinion, and even Thorin – royalty, no less! - Had directed an insulting comment towards the hobbit no less than four sentences into his first conversation.

Very, very rude.

Still, the other dwarves had become rather disciplined and much more dignified once their leader had arrived. The journey from the hallway to the table was rather uneventful, and Elsa took her place next to Gandalf. She found herself sitting next to the fierce looking individual and tattoos, who seemed to have his eye on a nearby platter of biscuits just as much as she did. When he shifted the sweets closer to him when the map was set down, Elsa almost had half a mind to reach out and grab one.

Elsa's mood turned sombre as soon as the discussions started. It looked as though they were alone in their quest, and things looked grim. Elsa agreed with the white-haired dwarf – Balin, she reminded herself, Balin. They were only fifteen – and if the dwarves' behaviour that night was any indication, they might as well march on the dragon with a company of toddlers.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters. All of us, to the last dwarf!" Argued the young, blond one whose name she really had to learn.

His younger brother spoke up as well. "And you forget we have a wizard and a sorceress in our company! Gandalf would have killed hundreds of dragons in his time, and this time, he'll have Elsa on his side!"

"Oh, well, no. I-I wouldn't say-" Gandalf was actually caught off-guard. So was Elsa, at the insinuation that it'd be her that would turn the tide against such a beast. Unlikely.

"How many, then?" Asked Chamomile Dwarf.

"Er, what?" Gandalf said.

Elsa, meanwhile, leant back on her chair, as if she could somehow will herself to phase through it and hide behind Gandalf.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?"

All dwarves looked expectantly at the wizard, while Elsa kept her posture meek and her gaze lowered. Beside her, Gandalf coughed, pipe smoke escaping from his mouth.

"Go on, give us a number!"

The table erupted in arguments, until Thorin silenced them all with one shout.

"If we have not read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?" The dwarf king paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected – do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?!"

The seated dwarves cheered at their leader's inspiring speech. Elsa felt respect grow for him grow at his display of leadership, even despite the poor behaviour he had shown towards their host. Say what you like about his manners, but this man – er, dwarf, knew how to inspire his subjects.

"You forget; the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," Balin reminded them.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true…"

Thorin and the rest of the dwarves received the key Gandalf produced with great reverence. It was a heavy, solemn moment, until the blond dwarf spoke once more.

The conversation turned to the need of the burglar, and Elsa perked up, curious to see exactly how Master Baggins fitted into the plan. At the gentlehobbit's firm denying that he was a burglar, Elsa turned her gaze to Gandalf, exasperation on her face. What was the wizard doing, roping some harmless creature into this dangerous quest? The dwarves around her, especially the one sitting next to her, agreed, though some arguments broke out at the other end of the table.

But then, Elsa paused, feeling an odd shift in the air.

"Enough, if I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

The young woman recoiled from the wizard's anger, startled at the intimidating display. Elsa's withdrawal caused the unfortunate woman to bump straight into the fierce dwarf's shoulder, and flinched away from him as if he was made of molten iron. Immediately, she winced in apology, but the tattooed individual did nothing but give her an annoyed glance.

To Elsa, Gandalf's reasons were as valid as whomever thought it was a good idea to jump down a mountain with branches attached to their legs. The reasoning was there, and in theory, it could work, but the idea was too insane for any logical person to actually go through with it. Besides, Bilbo's protests ensured that they wouldn't force him to…

"Give him the contract."

Oh, by Eru, they were forcing him to go. This wasn't right. They were frightening the poor fellow, not to mention how pale he became when they talked of the gruesome end he would most likely meet in the wilds.

Breathe, Mr Bilbo, Elsa encouraged silently.

When the hobbit fainted with a thump in the hallway, Elsa's concerned gasp quickly followed.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur…" Gandalf grumbled.

There were snickers and exasperated sighs from the other dwarves around the table.

* * *

Elsa had, in her honest opinion, had quite enough of dwarves. They were pleasant enough towards her, of course, but so much social interaction was both anxiety and fatigue inducing. She had planned on going to the bathroom to hide (and to get a peek at the smallest porcelain latrine she had ever seen), but had been driven out by the sheer smell of dwarven business clogging the plumbing.

She wandered aimlessly for a while, awaiting Bilbo's return so that she may ask where she could sleep. They had discussed it while poor Master Baggins was out cold, and Gandalf and the dwarves immediately agreed that Elsa should have the guest room to herself. Apparently anything else would be extremely improper, even by dwarven standards.

After a while, Bilbo did appear, marching off through the halls and shaking his head to himself.

"Master Baggins?" Elsa said. "I'm sorry, but I'm feeling rather tired, and was wondering if I may retire to any guest room you may have?"

The hobbit blinked, before realisation dawned on his features. Of course she'd need a place to sleep. "Oh- oh yes, of course. Er, right this way, miss."

It was a quaint, pleasant room, with a fireplace and a small round window. There was a bookshelf and a small chair to the right, and an intricately carved cupboard to their left. It reminded Elsa of the small rooms of her childhood dollhouse.

"Oh, dear. The bed may be a bit, er, small," Bilbo observed. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine, really," Elsa said automatically. "I can manage."

"You'll be alright with getting the fireplace started, won't you?" He asked. "Being a sorceress and all."

Elsa shook her head. All this time out of the palace, and she still didn't know how to take care of everyday things usually reserved for servants. "No, sorry. My magic talents lie in ice and snow, unfortunately."

"Ah," Bilbo said, looking curious for a moment. "Well, never you mind, I can help with that. I'll just get the damper open, and then…"

With the room finally set up and fire roaring, Bilbo straightened and made for the door. "Well, if you need anything else, miss, don't hesitate to knock on my door. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Master Baggins," Elsa said. "Oh, and thank you for your hospitality."

Bilbo paused, and turned to smile a genuine smile at her. "Well… You're very welcome, miss."

The bed was indeed uncomfortably small, but the warmth of the fire and the refreshing feeling of being alone were far too pleasant for her to dwell on the negatives. She curled up on the soft fabric, fully dressed for fear of damaging the bedclothes with her ice, and watched the flames crackle and snap. Deep rumbling voices sang in harmony, echoing faintly in the distance.

The surreality of Elsa's situation was not lost to her, but she was too tired to contemplate it. Over the past few months on the road with Gandalf, she accepted that life was going to be strange and alien from now on. So she drifted off to sleep in a hobbit's bed, far away from Arendelle, with dwarven voices ringing in her ears.

Tomorrow, she'd set off towards a dragon.

* * *

_Elsa isn't a party person, but this time she can't call it off._


End file.
